An endless rain of thoughts of you pour into the ocean blue until the world before me drowns and I’m turned upside down. Yes these thoughts fly through the sky faster than the speed of light, until they burst into nova dreams colored by my love for you. All the stars in the universe do not provide enough fuel to last longer than how long my love will burn and burn and burn for you. Black holes can’t change how I feel for you, crushing stars kaleidoscopes and all the happiness in the universe comes to me when I’m with you.

Rain drops of you pour inside my head, drowning every neuron to the molecule. I look in the mirror deep into my eyes, there you are in liquid form and I am intoxicated until I can’t stand anymore. Crashing down, my head hits the floor with a heavy thud, a cracked skull. You seep out, then drip, then gush until you drown my body, inside the bones.

A little boy running from his enemies,
Shadows on horses is all he sees.
With his baby sister clutched close to his heart,
In a world before him suddenly torn apart.
Looking for his mother who’s cries still ring in his ears,
As the world glances on with little care.
And everywhere he runs blood stains the sand,
With Death stalking him not even a man.
He’s calling his mother cause he’s alone,
There’s a part of him that knows she is gone.
So what do you do with a little boy like him?
Trapped in a world where his existence is a sin.
Please God tell me what boy has enemies?
And I’ll show you a world where you’re on your knees.
For letting us humans commit genocide,
Where are the angels? When we need them to fly.
God give me hope to live another day,
Before I join the gangs of Hell and everyone will pay.
With a wrath that boils deep in my heart,
Silencing the suffering in a world torn apart.

So give me a reason for my skull to not explode,
Live my profanities until the world unfolds.
Are you listening to the words that scream from my heart?
Or are you fucking yourself and playing the part?
Cause there is no prediction on my actions right now,
The world will reap the wrath that I sow.
I’ll set a blaze to the world and shake it violently,
Is that what it will take to make you see?
That our innocence is being mowed like grass,
A life born into a world not made to last.
Tell my why God doesn’t do a thing?
But watch us helplessly lose our wings.
I feel the pain circulating earth,
My fate foretold I have been cursed at birth.
I ask myself when the sun opens my eyes,
Is life worth living or is it time for me to die?
Cause I’m convinced life is better where the grass is green,
The water so blue it sparkles and gleams.
Where the stars at night shine bright all night,
Close enough for me to grab without a fight.
But my life is foretold In a tale of our misery,
Not afraid to unleash my love for humanity.

Sitting on a train train that is more packed than comfortable on this dreary Monday morning, I see a man standing within two arm’s length in front of me facing the window. He is dressed in a tailored jet black suit, finely detailed black wingtip shoes polished with great care, a sliver of dark black socks camouflaged. His hairstyle is sharp and among seasoned hairstylists, agreeably the perfect length. There is an overwhelming black tone to his hair color, unwashed by the sterile glow of the subway lights. His jaw line meets his strong chin effortlessly, with no affects of gravity pulling on the skin under his neck. I can not see his nose since his head is turned slightly forward, but I would imagine it to be about a 45 degree downward sloping with a sharp point, of a pythoragean ratio proportion.

He is surrounded by an eclectic group of individuals. Behind him and obstructing part of my view is a little fat man wearing grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt, around 5’4″ with a brown scruffy beard, a product of his growing indolence. Next to the little fat man, a female dressed in a royal purple peacoat stands with a look of boredom mixed with salient disgust in her eyes, most likely directed at the little fat man who I wouldn’t be surprised to have a oily, stringent odor seeping from the fat pores on his nose. She’s a light skinned African American female, pretty face with eyes that are almost disproportionately large to her face but match well with her full, soft, pink lips – which I stare at for a few hypnotic seconds. An abrupt slight disconnect of the metal train wheels to the metal rails break the boredom, petulant disgust shimmer from her dark, big brown eyes.

I break my optical thought from her and look out the window and it is still the same dreary Monday, even with the increasing number of photons filling the space between.